She knew immediately that she would not like what he was going to say; she knew he wanted to hurt her because she had seen something that he didn't want her to see.
'Yes?'
Becker pointed towards the entrance hole of the tunnel.
'This is why,' he said. 'You're small enough to fit.'
Pegeen struck back immediately. 'You're afraid of it, aren't you?'
Becker avoided her eyes.
'You're claustrophobic?'
'I'm fine,' he said. His whole face was now shiny with perspiration.
'I can see how fine you are.'
'I'll manage,' he said.
'You knew this was here all along,' she said.
'You've been studying the chart on this cave since last night. Why didn't you do something, why didn't we call somebody? Are you so desperate to do this?'
'I'll make it.'
'Why didn't you tell me, at least?'
'What good would that have done?'
'Maybe I could have helped you,' she said.
'I can only help myself,' Becker said, but at the moment he looked to Pegeen like someone who couldn't begin to help himself His whole physical being seemed to have changed, to have softened and weakened, as if the phobia had sapped his very bones.
'You don't have to be brave all the time,' Pegeen said softly. 'Not with me.' She tentatively placed her fingertips on the back of his hand and he jerked as he always seemed to when touched unexpectedly, but when he relaxed he did not pull away and Pegeen gently slipped her hand across the top of his.
After a moment he rolled his hand over so that they were palm to palm and his fingers closed slowly over hers.
Pegeen remembered holding his hand in the car before he went into the prison to visit Swann. That was how this had all started for her, this obsession with this powerful, dangerous, complicated man who could be reduced to immobility by his own secret fears, who could rouse such passion in her, in himself, then cloak it again as if it never happened, who could be so vulnerable, then draw such strength from the touch of her hand. He had granted her a power over him on that first day, she realized, and whether he knew it or not, whether he held an equal power over her or not, he had needed her ever since.
'It's all right,' she said at last. 'I'll go, you can wait here.
He shook his head dully, resignedly, not looking at her, knowing what had to happen.
There would be no easy way out for Becker, Pegeen realized. He would never allow that.
'Shall I go first, then?' she asked.
Becker shivered violently, as if hit suddenly by a frigid wind, but he nodded again and shrugged off his backpack.
'I'll keep in touch with your foot,' he said. 'But if I don't…'
'You will, I know you will.'
He was on his hands and knees in front of the hole, his head hanging like a beaten dog's. 'If I stop, keep going.'
'You'll make it,' she said.
'Right.'
Pegeen removed her pack and stretched out flat before the opening of the tunnel. She shifted her pistol so that it rode securely in her belt in the middle of her back, reachable but well out of the way.
'No lights, no firing,' Becker said. She could hear his voice quavering.
Pegeen wanted to hug him but knew that what he wanted most was for her to be gone so that she couldn't see him in the grip of his fears. Pegeen tucked the flashlight into her belt on her back alongside her pistol.
She might not use either one, but she was sure as hell going to have them with her.
She took a deep breath as if she were going underwater and went headfirst into the tunnel. Behind her, Becker doused his light and the world became pitch. She moved forward slowly, feeling first with her hands across the surface of the stone that was as smooth as polished marble before pulling herself forward. Sometimes there was room enough on either side for her to slide a knee forward, sometimes the sides narrowed in so that she could propel herself only by pulling with her arms and elbows and the tips of her toes. There were sudden drops of several inches, sometimes a foot or more, as sheer as miniature waterfalls, but everywhere she touched the surface had the burnished feel of ice. It was like crawling into a giant intestine, she thought.
Straight up the devil's ass.
Becker crawled behind her, his hand touching her ankle or the sole of her boot when she braced, falling away as she pulled herself forward and then contacting her again as he followed her movements. Pegeen took comfort in knowing he was there and wondered what this exercise was costing him. It was bad enough for her-she felt like screaming at times as the tunnel seemed to stretch forever without end-what damnation must he be suffering? She thought, too, of Swann, following this same course, dragging the girl behind him. He had to drag her, there was no other way. How compelling a need must it be to make a man do that?
Becker knew; in some way Becker understood; but Pegeen did not. Nor did she want to.
Swann had advantages, though, she realized. He had been here before. He knew there was an end to the tunnel, and some sort of reward, however sick and twisted, when he got there. And he had light. Pegeen would have given anything for any illumination, even as faint as a spark.
Crawling like this was like living without hope.
Her fingers touched a beveled edge and explored it on all sides. The tunnel had reached a cincture, as if a belt had suddenly been tightened.
Her hands told her that the walls spread out again on the other side, but at this point the stone narrowed in even farther than before. Her head cleared easily but the gap was too narrow to pass her shoulders straightaway. She twisted her body to one side, squeezing her shoulders towards each other, but then her hips were caught and she hung, helplessly, with gravity pulling her head lower than her waist and her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the ivory-smooth rock.
Oh Christ, oh shit, oh Christ, oh shit, she thought, repeating the mindless mantra to herself as she wriggled and squirmed. She was caught by the gun and flashlight tucked in her belt and they were on the other side of the opening; she could not reach back to free them; she didn't have enough of a grip on the stone with her hands to push herself up and backwards so she could retreat. She dangled half in, half out, writhing, her fingers scrabbling for a hold.
As she fought her sense of panic it occurred to her that this might be the wrong tunnel, it might be a dead end that narrowed and shrank and came to nothing and she would be trapped within it. They had taken it on faith that this was where Swann had gone, where he had to have gone, and they had trusted Browne's chart, but who knew how thoroughly Browne had searched? Perhaps he had found a different tunnel and had not bothered to mark this cul-de-sac on the map at all.
She felt Becker's hands on her and knew that big fingers were assessing the situation of stone and flesh. He pulled back on her hips and Pegeen rose, her hands now in touch with nothing. As she flailed to make contact with the walls, she felt Becker yank the gun and flashlight from her belt. He put his hand on her ass and shoved. She wanted to tell him to stop, to pull her all the way back, they were heading into nowhere, but she suddenly popped free and had a fleeting image of herself slipping through a birth canal.
Her feet slithered down the three-foot drop-off and her knees thudded against the stone. It took her a moment to realize that she was free and to gather herself before advancing again. Whatever lay ahead, she knew it could not be worse than where she had just been.
The tunnel began to widen and she could get her knees under her and she moved ahead with eagerness, so relieved to be moving at last, until she realized that Becker was no longer with her.
Swann stood over her, pointing the knife at her, not threatening, just reminding her that he had it, keeping it there for when she looked at him. Aural finished the hymn, keeping her eyes closed until the last sweet note faded and fell to silence. She could see his feet and legs up to his knees through her lashes, but she was careful to keep
